


Lorna Sterling

by ChelleyPam



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Blame LemonSupreme, Blame thedarkestdaisy too, F/M, Not My Fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new series of books that is taking the Texas Republic by storm.  Especially the women.  When Bass is laid up with an injury, he has nothing better to do to pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonSupreme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonSupreme/gifts), [thedarkestdaisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestdaisy/gifts).



> _Lorna Sterling is the name of a fictional author of paranormal romance in the Kate Daniels series by Ilona Andrews. I'm borrowing it for a pen name here._

_Robert knew that he shouldn't. If Thomas found out, he'd slice him open from groin to gullet. But at this moment in time, he didn't give a damn. All that mattered was the feel of Anna's skin under the tips of his fingers. The taste of her on his tongue. The feel of her pussy gripping him as he thrust into her with slow, firm strokes. The whole city could be burning around them and he wouldn't be able to stop._

“Whatcha lost in there, Corporal?”

The young Ranger gave a yelp of surprise, leaping up from the downed log she'd been using as a bench and whirling around. “Sorry, General! I didn't hear you come up.”

Bass hid a smile. “I gathered that. At ease, Soldier.” He nodded at the book in the girl's hand. “Must be good.”

She blushed. A full on, tomato red blush. “It's...just a trashy romance. Bodice ripper type stuff.” She shrugged. “Just something to pass the time.”

Okay. That was funny. “They've started publishing romance books again? I figured books on survival and how to cook on wood burning stoves would be more useful.”

“People need...something fun to read. It's either this or Harry Potter, and I'm a little old for those.”

He had to laugh. “I can see that. Sorry to interrupt your 'me time', but I need you to round up your squad and get them ready to relieve the camp guard.”

“Yes, Sir.” The young corporal saluted and hurried off, shoving the paperback into one of the cargo pockets of her jacket. 

“Well, at least she's reading.”

That had been his last official task of the day. It hadn't really been his, but she'd been on his way over so he'd told the captain who was going to do it that he'd take care of it. Mission accomplished, he made his way to the mess tent to get some dinner before he retired to the command tent he shared with Miles to split a bottle of whiskey.

The Rangers did a better job of chow than his Republic cooks had. Then again, they had access to more arable land thanks to having swallowed up Arkansas and Louisiana when the boundaries were redrawn. And they were reclaiming their fame for beef. He caught up with Miles in the line where they filled their trays with roast, potatoes, green beans and corn bread before scoping out a place to sit. Charlie was already there, sharing a table with a couple of female Rangers.

“You ladies mind if we join you?” Miles didn't usually do charming, but he did try not to muscle in on Charlie's free time. He was trying not to be the overprotective jerk of an uncle who didn't let his precious niece breathe or live her own life. 

He also did a very good job of pretending not to notice how the female soldiers looked at him. Looked at them both, actually. Part of it was the lure of power, certainly. But part of it was also because both of them weren't bad looking for old guys. Not that Bass thought of himself as old, but he knew Miles did. He'd always thought it a bit unfair that his brother didn't even have to try to win a girl over. All he had to do was be brooding and look tormented and they wanted to soothe him and try to make him happy. 

They looked at Miles kind of the same way the brunette seated next to Charlie was, though she kept the glances from underneath her eyelashes. 

Bass didn't try to pretend he didn't notice how the blonde was looking at him. A Private First Class. Donnovan? No, Donneghall. Pretty thing from a farming town with a smattering of freckles across her nose and light hazel eyes. Pity he promised Miles he'd behave himself. The quiet ones were usually the most fun.

Bass sat down next to Donneghall and across from Charlie. “So, what are you ladies chatting about tonight?”

The brunette...Sasser?... gave a little shrug. “Oh, nothing much. Book club.”

Miles arched a brow at his niece. “You're in a book club?”

“No, not me.”

“We're trying to get her interested.”

Charlie cast her interest in the tray in front of her. “I know the stories, Beth. I don't need to join a book club.”

Okay, Miles might be trying to tone down the overprotective part, but he still rarely passed up a chance to tease her. “What books are we talking about? Harry Potter? Nanny McPhee? Twilight? Please, not Twilight.”

Bass grinned. “I know! Fifty Shades of Gray.”

“No, that's Blanchard's favorite.”

Sasser and Donneghall nearly choked on their dinner. Charlie just rolled her eyes. After she got herself under control, Sasser (Beth) decided to clarify. “They're new. The Republic Chronicles by Lorna Sterling. They're short, but nice and steamy.”

Bass frowned, wracking his brain. “I think I just saw Corporal Yarrow with one of those.”

Beth nodded. “Yes, Sir. I loaned her one of mine.”

“So you have a book club for what I believe was described to me as trashy romance? Bodice rippers?”

“Delicious, steamy sex.” Sasser wasn't even bashful about it. “I just figured Charlie needed something to spice up her fantasy life since she doesn't have a sex life.”

That was enough for Miles. “Okay, I don't want to think about her sex life.” The two non-Matheson girls burst into giggles.

“Hey, none of that.” Bass was grinning, enjoying the fun of making Miles uncomfortable and embarrassing Charlie. “You're Rangers. Rangers don't giggle. They growl.” 

Donneghall made a show of fanning herself. “Well, if I had someone like General Lee to spice up my nights, I'd have no trouble growling.”

That got Bass' attention. “Wait? These are period romances? Civil War?”

“Oh, no. The two generals just happen to be named Robert Lee and Thomas Jackson. It's a running gag in the whole series. Random people comment or joke about it.”

“Oh, thank God.” Miles gave an over dramatic sigh. “Charlie, you are an adult and you can make your own decisions, but I do hope you at least try to read something more academic. Surely Aaron wrote a book of something.”

“If he did, it'd be about computers. What good would that do me?”

~***~

They hit a particularly stubborn cell of Patriots. One that had guerrilla tactics down pat. Real pros at rigging up traps using whatever they could find.

If he didn't have that fucking blind spot, he would have seen the damn thing.

Bass glowered from where he was seated in an over sized chair with his leg propped up on a couple of pillows on a crate. The leg wasn't broken, but the surgery to remove the shrapnel and piece together torn tissues had been lengthy. He was under orders not to try weight bearing any more than what was needed to get to the damn chamber pot and back into a chair or bunk. 

Fuck. 

At least he got to stay on the field as long as he remained in the command tent. It meant he did mostly administrative work while Miles did the manual stuff for both of them, but he'd go crazy if he'd been stuck in a hospital or sent back to Austin to heal. 

“General Monroe?”

Bass looked up to spot one of the matronly women from the nearby town who helped out in the camp. It was the Blackout version of the USO. They arranged dances and live music for the troops as well as provided new linens, did repairs on uniforms and brought in fresh baked treats. “Yes, Ma'am. Please forgive me if I don't get up.”

The woman, she looked to be in her mid-sixties, gave him a gentle smile. “Oh, no bother, Dear. May I come in?”

“Sure.” He was bored. He'd talk to anybody at this point. She came inside backwards, pulling a rolling cart along with her. “What's that?”

“Books people in town donated for the troops. I was just in the hospital tent passing them out when someone told me you were here. I figured I'd stop by and see if I might have anything to ease the boredom.”

He smiled. “Madam, you are an angel.” She blushed prettily for a senior citizen and maneuvered the cart closer so he could peruse what she had without getting out of his chair.

Pickings were slim, but there was a copy of Stephen King's Christine and a beat of paperback by someone named Jim Butcher called Summer Knight that was supposed to be about a wizard PI. He plucked them out of the cart and saw a slim volume that looked to be a post-Blackout printing. He wouldn't have noticed it, but the name Lorna Sterling was still relatively fresh in his mind, so he pulled out A General Temptation just out of curiosity. He should probably look into what his female soldiers were in to, after all. A wise leader should understand those under his command.

He thanked the woman, paying her a roguish compliment as was his style just to see if he could get her to blush again and moved as much as he was able to get comfortable again. He reached over to the chest where Miles kept their whiskey stash and pulled out a new bottle. Pouring himself a few fingers, he opened the Sterling book and started reading.

It wouldn't win any literary prizes, but the book was easy fun. There was action and the fight scenes were well written for a romance. The author was either really a man or a woman with her hooks into someone who could help her with the action parts. The two generals, Robert and Thomas, had once been close friends who governed the Northeast Republic until Thomas had begun to feel guilty over all the wars he'd waged and blood he'd shed and left without so much as a good-bye. Robert had been left to try and manage everything on his own while dealing with his feelings of betrayal and loss. The set up really hit close to home for him, strongly echoing what had happened between him and Miles.

Thomas eventually reunited with his long lost daughter, Anna, who had been raised by his brother, after her cousin (who was also her half-brother) had been abducted by Republic forces. The pair of them embarked on a journey to get the boy back, only to run into a wall when they were separated and Anna was captured. Taken to Robert's prison, Anna learns the mother she believed was dead was actually alive. Kept prisoner by the Republic because she knew the location of a large cache of weapons and ammunition that would finally give General Lee the leverage needed to expand his holdings.

_”Sarah, it must be nice, having your children back with you again.” General Lee's boots echoed against the smooth concrete floor as he walked. The shadows from the hallway seemed to caress his shoulders as he left them, reluctant to let go of their master so easily. “Hello, Anna. It's nice to finally meet you.”_

_He wasn't at all what Anna had imagined him to be. His hair was a carefully groomed mop of dark gold curls that complimented bright blue eyes. He looked a good ten years younger than his supposed early forties and his uniform did not hide the powerful build of his body. He moved with a feline grace and hinted at speed and strength._

_He was beautiful. Evil wasn't supposed to be beautiful._

_”Sarah, I am tired of your games. I need to know where those weapons are. I know that you know. Now you are going to tell me.”_

_Anna looked from Lee to her mother. “Mom? What's he talking about?”_

_”Oh, I'm sure there's a lot about your mother you don't know. Isn't that right, Sarah?”_

_”Mom? Mom, listen to me.” Anna waited until her mother met her gaze. “Whatever he wants you to do, you can't do it.”_

_General Lee smiled a small, smug smile. “Oh, is that so?” He motioned with one hand to a tall sergeant with salt and pepper hair. The man took a step forward, pulling a revolver from its holster, confirmed it was loaded, and leveled it at Anna and Derek._

_”Ms. Jackson, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to choose which of your children I'm going to kill.” The soldier delivered the statement with cool detachment._

_Sarah glared at Lee, her eyes wet with tears. “You son of a bitch!”_

_”Mom, I have seen the Republic army kill dozens. If you help them they will kill hundreds if not thousands.”_

_”The boy or the girl? Which one is your favorite?”_

_Anna squeezed Derek's hand in hers. She hadn't come all this way to watch him die. “Mom, some things are more important than family!”_

_”Choose now!”_

_Anna didn't think. Her body seemed to move of its own accord. Her legs straightened, the full weight of her coming up until she was glaring down the barrel of the revolver at the sergeant. “Pick me!”_

_Time stood perfectly still for a small eternity. No one so much as blinked. She could feel Lee's eyes on the side of her face. A tangible heat against her skin that seemed to crawl its way through her. An odd feeling, that look. Even though she wasn't watching him, had her full attention focused on the cold eyes beyond the barrel of the gun, she knew Lee was watching her. And something instinctual inside of her warned her that there was a darker, earthier power behind the eyes she didn't see._

_Then, just as it had begun, time moved forward again. “Okay.” He thumbed back the hammer of the revolver, pointing it at the space between Anna's eyes.”_

_She heard her mother draw in a ragged sob. “No!”_

_”It's all right, Mom.”_

_”Stop! Stop! I'll tell you how to find the weapons! Just, please, stop!”_

_Anna couldn't stop the stab of disappointment that shot through her. Couldn't stop herself from thinking that her mother was weak for giving in. She'd feel bad about that later, but in that moment all she could think about were the hundreds of Dereks that would die once Lee and his men had those weapons._

_General Lee's lips turned up into a pleased smile. “See? It's just as Thomas always said; A good hostage works every time.” He looked from Sarah to the kids and back. “Take the kids back to their cells. Have Sarah mark down every cache and location onto a map. And if she tries anything, anything at all, kill both the kids.”_

_Anna helped her brother up from the worn sofa, not wanting any of the soldiers to lay another finger on him. She was helping him get his balance when she noticed Lee pausing just outside the room to speak to one of the soldiers. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and their guards ushered them out of the room before she could ponder what else he might be planning. They escorted them through the dank corridors towards the holding cells only to see the same soldier Lee had pulled aside rounding the corner in front of them._

_”I'm to take the girl with me. General Lee's orders.”_

_”What? No!” The soldier took hold of her upper arm and pulled her away. “No! I have to stay with Derek! I need to stay with my brother!”_

_Her pleas fell on deaf ears as another soldier helped him by taking her other arm. Together they drug her down the hall. Anna called for Derek and he called out to her. She strained her neck to see her brother and watched as he was shoved, unceremoniously, into one of the spartan cells. The metal door clanged shut with finality._

_Anna wasn't a weak girl. Years of helping to support her family and the less fortunate families in their village and resulted in her developing a good deal of strength. The months on the road with her father on the way here had only made her stronger. But, try as she might, she couldn't get free of these men. Her head still throbbed from the injury in the tunnels, and the harder her heart beat the more it throbbed. She tried tripping them up, but it only made them madder. They tightened their grip on her arms to a punishing extent and jerked her forward until they reached a flight of steps down. A sense of self-preservation made her stop struggling, then. She didn't need to compound her problems by breaking her neck falling down a flight of stairs._

_They hauled her down the stairs, through another corridor and finally into a spacious, well appointed office. The Republic's flag hung on the back wall behind a heavy, ornate desk. Behind the desk sat General Lee, reclining in a plush, comfortable chair, his bright blue eyes watching her as she was brought in._

_”Hello, Anna. Thank you for joining me.” He nodded to the guards who moved her to a chair situated before the desk and shoved her down into it before exiting the room. It was on the tip of her tongue to mouth off to him, her father had improved her sarcasm skill on the trip here, but she reminded herself that this man still held Derek's life in his hands._

_She opted instead to remain silent, her fists balling up in her lap as she forced herself to keep her breathing slow and steady. Her father was still out there, somewhere. If anyone could get them out of this mess, General Jackson could._

_Lee got up and walked over to a rolling cart behind his desk, atop which sat a serving tray with an ice bucket, a cut crystal decanter and four matching glasses. He flipped two of the glasses upright and added a couple pieces of ice to each. “You were really something in there, by the way.” He poured some amber liquid, probably whiskey, from the decanter into the glasses. “You have quite a bit of your father in you.”_

_She swallowed. “Thank you.”_

_He put the lid back onto the ice bucket and carried the glasses over. He held one out to her and she took it. Took it, but didn't drink. She didn't think she could stop her hand from shaking long enough to drink without spilling it down the front of her last good top. “I suppose that's hardly surprising. You were a stubborn, hard-headed thing when you were a child, too.”_

_That took her by surprise. “You...you knew me when I was a kid?”_

_”Oh, yes. Your father and I are from the same home town. Were in the corps together. We'd come home on leave together, mainly to see you.” He moved slowly until he was standing behind her. A firm, heated hand came to rest on her shoulder, making her jump slightly from the unexpected contact. “I have to say, you grew up beautiful. Hardly surprising given who your parents are. You know, Thomas and I, we had a whole plan mapped out as to what we were going to do when you got old enough to date. Not the usual cleaning guns thing, that's nothing. You have to put the guns back together to shoot. No, we were going to be sharpening knives. Big ones.” He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “We had plans to have any would-be suitors so terrified they wouldn't have even had the guts to give you a peck on the cheek.”_

_Anna licked her lips, her eyes still looking forward so that she was staring at his desk. “Is that what you did for fun when the lights were on? Terrify teenage boys?”_

_”Only when we didn't think they were good enough for the girl.” Lee's voice had taken on a dark quality. Not scary dark. She wasn't sure what it was, but she didn't think she was afraid. But then, if she wasn't afraid, why was she trembling? She felt his fingers trail from her shoulder and move up the side of her neck to trace her jaw. A line of fire seemed to follow in the wake of those fingertips. “And, Anna, from what I've seen today, I can't think of a single boy who would be good enough for someone like you.”_

“Hey, Bass!” He jumped slightly in his seat, his eyes flying to the front of the tent where Miles was peeking in. “You hungry?”

It took him a second to register the question. “Uh...yeah. Starving actually.” He dog-eared the book and dropped it into the pocket caddy hanging on his chair. “Lunch was kind of light.”

“I'll go grab us something out of the mess and bring it back. So...uh...” his lips quirked up in a crooked grin, “sit tight.”

“Oh, funny! Ha, ha!” He snatched up a model of a wagon and chucked it at Miles' head. Of course the jerk ducked before it could hit him.

Once Miles was gone, Bass was better able to wrap his mind around what he'd just been reading.

Fuck. 

The similarities between him and Miles and the characters of Lee and Jackson had been eerie enough, but that scene with Anna, her brother and their estranged mother had almost been exactly what had transpired in Philly that day Rachel got the power on for him. Almost word for word, right down to Charlie standing up in front of Strausser's gun and daring him to shoot her.

What the fuck?

Rachel wouldn't write this. She was the type of elitist who'd consider romance books trite and unworthy of her time. She certainly wouldn't write what had been shaping up to be a rather sexually charged scene between a character that was obviously him and a girl who was obviously patterned after her daughter. No, if Rachel had written this, Anna would have managed to get her hands on a knife and castrated General Lee, then gone on to slaughter every soldier in the building.

That left only one other person who had been there that day. The only other person who would have known about the show down between him and the Mathesons that morning. 

What was going through Charlie's mind?

Admittedly, he'd had a fantasy or two after seeing her that day. Usually involving bending her over his desk or pushing her to her knees and giving that smart mouth of hers something more interesting to do. 

Had Charlie entertained her own dark fantasies about that day as well?

Thank goodness his injury required him to wear looser clothing or his pants would be getting uncomfortably tight right now.

He was tempted to fish the book back out and keep reading. To see just where Charlotte Matheson's fantasies went. But Miles would be back soon and he didn't think he wanted to have dinner with his best friend while his mind was filled with fresh thoughts of defiling his niece.

Bass concentrated on getting himself under control. Miles would be out again tomorrow and he could read more, then. In the meantime, he needed to _not_ think about Charlie.

Yeah.

Right.


	2. Chapter 2

“The scouts report that there's a Patriot encampment about fifty miles south of Hartford. Count of about seventy-five to one hundred, though it looked like they were expecting more. Sounds like a rally point.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bass skimmed the report in question. “Franklin's boys?”

“That's what I'm thinking. They're the toughest sons of bitches we got. Not by themselves, though. We'll hook them up with Boyd and Rough. That way there'll be enough of them if the count goes up by the time they get there.”

“Texas should just take those three platoons and use them for the start of a special forces company. They're turning into our go-to guys.”

“If this war was going to take any longer, I'd push for it.”

Bass gave a brief tilt of his head. “Should probably still push for it even after the war ends. Wouldn't be a bad thing to have if Mexico or California starts trouble in the future.”

“You know that, and I know that. But this isn't our republic. We don't have to make any of the big decisions this time around.” Miles propped his booted feet up onto the table. “Personally, I like it better this way.”

“It is less of a headache, not having to deal with the administrative bullshit.” Bass held out his much for more of the chicory coffee since Miles had the pot on his side of the table. “Hey, Miles...can I ask you something?”

“You would whether I said you could or not.” He filled up the mug and handed it back.

“True. Have you ever wondered about Charlie?”

Miles frowned. “Wondered about Charlie? Wondered what about Charlie?”

“Well, I know when you broke it off with Rachel. And she was born nine months after. It actually takes about forty weeks for gestation, not thirty-six.” Bass shrugged. “Did you ever wonder if she wasn't Ben's? If maybe she's really yours?”

Miles scowled. “What? No!” He shook his head, though he looked as though he was actually trying to convince himself. “She's not mine. Rachel would have said something by now.” His scowl darkened. “How do you know how long it takes to have a baby, anyway?”

“The midwife who was helping Shelly told us.”

“Oh, right.” His friend looked somewhat abashed to have brought up anything that might bring Shelly back to mind. It still hurt, but Bass had made his peace with losing her a long time ago. “What would make you think of...that anyway?”

_Because she's been writing about herself in that context and it got me to wondering if it wasn't based on something true._ “Just wondering. Haven't you ever thought of having kids of your own?”

“Fuck no. I'd be a lousy father.”

“You've done pretty well with Charlie.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I took a innocent, naive girl who was repulsed by the idea of killing anyone and turned her into one of my best soldiers with aim good enough to send a crossbow bolt through a man's throat. I did an awesome job with her.”

“Hey, she's not like us, Miles.”

“I've made her exactly like us.”

“No, you haven't. We're dicks who hold grudges like they were a life line. Charlie still has it in her to forgive and give someone a second chance.” Bass threw his arms open in illustration. “Look at me. She hunted me down with ever intention of killing me, and would have done it if those bounty hunters hadn't ruined her shot. But she brought me back and let me help. She trusts me to watch her back in a fight. Hell, she's even trying to play nice with Rachel and, I'm sorry, but you know those two aren't truly going to get along until your girlfriend finally realizes that she's not still the same little girl she left on the side of the road ten years ago.”

Something a bit like hope fluttered behind his brother's eyes. “Yeah, you may be right. About her being a better person than either of us, anyway.” He sighed. “Maybe there's hope for her, yet. Maybe she'll leave this war and find some guy who'll make her happy. Have kids of her own. I can play at being a grandpa without having to actually be a father first.”

Bass wasn't sure how he felt about that part. “You want her to have kids? What, settle down with some dirt farmer?”

Miles made a derisive snort. “She'd eat a farmer alive. Nah, it'd have to be someone as tough as she is. Probably one of these Rangers. Not one of the young ones, though. They wouldn't stand a chance. Late twenties? Thirty, maybe?” Miles frowned. “I should probably start going through personnel files or something. Make sure I know which ones to steer her away from.”

_How about none of them?_ “That'd go over well. Maybe you should hold auditions. Make them prove they know how to handle both a gun and dual swords to qualify.”

“Might not be a bad idea. You done with your breakfast?”

Bass pushed the tin tray aside. “Yeah. Any coffee left?” Miles poured what was left in the pot into Bass' mug before he headed out for the day. 

He gave his friend plenty of time to get away before he fished the book back out of the chair caddy. He opened it back up to the page he'd stopped at last night and resumed. 

Sadly, their tête-à-tête was interrupted by Anna's father, former general Thomas Jackson, breaching the prison in his rescue attempt. General Lee had to leave a shivering and heated Anna to struggle with her own conflicting feelings to meet his old friend. 

There was an epic meeting between the two warriors that had quite a bit more grand standing than the real encounter (either she was utilizing artistic license or Miles didn't tell her what was said) followed by a sword fight that was a pretty good guess. Of course, Charlie had seen both he and Miles fight, both alone and with one another, so she knew their styles. She'd done a good job at describing how things would likely go down between them. 

Anna and her family escaped, of course. Jackson fought Lee to a defeat, but was unable to kill his old friend. While that had been going on, however, Anna had gotten the better of the guards outside Lee's office and had taken advantage of the confusion to get her mother and brother out. To anyone else reading it, Anna would come across as impossibly talented in fighting for a young girl. Knowing just what Miles could make of a twenty-year-old and having met the real girl, Bass suspected she probably could have orchestrated her own escape if she'd put her mind to it.

The Jacksons and their two friends fled the city with Republic soldiers on their tail. They eventually smuggled themselves out using coffins they'd pinched from the morgue under the guise of taking them for burial. This part sounded like truth to him, because they managed it by putting coffins with actual bodies on top in case they were checked, which they were, and used the Northeast Republic brand Anna had been marked with from a previous escapade in the book so that she was accepted as just another green soldier with a shit detail. 

So that's how they'd done it. Clever.

They managed to meet up with a rebel cell holed up in an abandoned strip mall. The gang briefed the leaders in charge as to what Lee now had access to and Sarah gave them the information on where the weapons were as well. Unfortunately, there was no way they'd beat the Republic army to them, so they had to settle for getting ready for an attack instead. 

_Anna had her sleeves rolled up and was helping other young people move sandbags. They were stacking them into low lying bunkers behind which the rebels could gain some cover while firing at attacking forces. No one wanted to acknowledge the truth; that how effective they were would depend on how the Republic forces distributed their new toys. The bags were around fifty pounds each and cumbersome to carry, so most of them could only handle one at a time. They had a hand off line going, passing the bags from one to another until they reached the spot for the bunker, at which point two of the strongest boys did the stacking._

_She jumped in surprise when someone touched her elbow. Looking up and back she found her father watching her with undisguised concern. “Why don't you take a break?”_

_”We're still building up the bunkers.”_

_He tugged her out of the line. The others pulled in closer to take up the slack. “You've had maybe six hours sleep over the past two days after being shot, taking a crack to the head and being captured by the Republic. You're running on fumes. Take a break.”_

_Irritation rose up inside her. “I'm fine.”_

_”You're not fine. You're barely on your feet. If you don't get some rest now you're more likely to do something stupid when the fighting starts and get yourself killed.” He gave her a firm shove inside. “I claimed a room for us in the old toy store. Put some water and rations in there for you, too. Eat something and catch a nap. I'll come get you if we need you before you're ready to wake on your own.”_

_He was using his general voice. The same voice he'd use don that soldier at the way station. It had come close to making that guy wet himself. She was beginning to understand why. So, for once, she opted to actually do what he told her and made her way to a space with a dilapidated sign spelling out 'Kaybee'._

_He'd put her bedroll, pack and rations back in what used to be the storage area, giving her a dark, quiet place to rest. Anna didn't miss that she was, apparently, the only one being sent to bed with their supper. For some reason Derek got to keep helping. Surely his asthma was just as dangerous as her supposed head injury. Uncle Warren might still hold the top spot in being the most paranoid and overprotective, but her biological father was almost as bad in his own way._

_She ate the simple meal of bread, cheese and apples and downed the water. Rummaging through her father's pack, she pulled out his emergency bottle of whiskey and poured a few fingers worth into her camp cup. He had to know she was drinking it, she doubted he ever failed to notice the level of whiskey going down, but so far he seemed okay with not saying anything. Besides, if he wanted her to sleep, then he shouldn't complain about her drinking something to help her get that way._

_She was still a light weight when it came to whiskey. It didn't take much to help her feel toasty inside and start to relax. Anna positioned her pack so that the part that held mostly clothes could double as a pillow and tried to will herself to sleep._

_Her mind didn't want to cooperate. She couldn't tell her father the real reason she was throwing herself into manual labor was because she didn't want to have time to actually think, because her thoughts kept going back to the prison and General Lee._

_Every time she closed her eyes for a significant moment, she saw those bright blue eyes and the perfectly tousled, dirty blond curls. She recalled the scent of whiskey and man when he was standing so close behind her. Remembered the heat of his fingers as he drug them up and over her skin._

_Anna turned over onto her side, linking her ankles around one another and squeezing her legs together in an attempt to banish the subtle ache trying to build up between them. It only served to make the ache worse. She pressed them together more snugly and moved her hips in tight, slow circles. She gentle stimulation against her clit made her bite down on her bottom lip._

_In her mind, she was back in that room with the sofa. No one else was there. She had been left there by herself, unarmed and helpless when General Lee walked in. He smiled at her with that slight upturn at the corners of his mouth, a combination of satisfied smugness and wicked charm._

_He stepped towards her, the polished boots sounding impossibly loud in the near empty room. “Hello, Anna. Thank you for joining me.”_

_Anna rolled her hips again as she imagined Lee moving towards her with a slow, predatory gait. His blue eyes practically incinerated her where she sat. He reached out with gloved hands, placing one on each of her shoulders, and gave them a gentle squeeze._

_”Where is Thomas?”_

_She wouldn't tell him. She wouldn't give up her father, no matter what! “I don't know.”_

_General Lee's smile widened just enough to show a flash of straight, white teeth. A lot of people from before the Blackout had straight teeth. They'd been subjected to uncomfortable orthodontics that forced them straight. For some absurd reason she found herself wondering if he'd had to go through that, or if he was just one of those lucky people who had perfect teeth._

_”Somehow I doubt that. I find it difficult to believe that your father would let you wander into my city by yourself.” He lifted one hand and stroked her cheek lightly. “Where is he?”_

_Anna reached down and unfastened the buttons of her jeans. She knew it was wrong to do this. Not that she thought there was anything wrong with touching herself. It was the subject matter that was wrong. Or rather, the object of that subject matter. Still, that didn't stop her from slipping her hand down the front of her jeans, slipping between the soft cotton panties and the nest of coarse curls, moving further down until she could slide her fingers over the sensitive clit and between the lips of her pussy. She encountered little in the way of friction, her body already growing slick just from the thoughts of him._

_In her mind, she shook her head firmly, refusing to tell the general anything. His fingers gripped her shoulders and pulled her up onto her feet. She gasped at the sudden motion and at how easily he lifted her. “Are you going to make me do this the hard way, Anna?”_

_She clenched her teeth together and lifted her chin in defiance. Let him do his worse. He couldn't intimidate her._

_Lee bent his head down so that she couldn't avoid his eyes. His whiskey tinged breath brushed against her cheek. “I don't mind doing this the hard way, but how much do you think you can take?”_

_Anna captured her clit between her index and middle fingers and applied a steady pressure while moving the fingers in circles against each other. She bit down on her lip harder and muffled a groan as her hips rocked against her own ministrations. In her mind, General Lee reached up and gathered a handful of her hair which he then used pull her head back so he could trail heated lips over her cheekbone and against the sensitive shell of her ear._

_”Tell me, Anna.” She shook her head in denial. “How far are you willing to go? How much will you give to protect him?”_

_She wasn't quite sure what to make of his interrogation techniques. She'd expected him to use a branding iron or maybe water. She hadn't expected him to capture the lobe of her ear between his teeth and bite down gently before moving on to trail his lips down the length of her neck. Strong hands trailed up her ribs to gently cup her breasts, the thumbs rubbing over her nipples in circles until they hardened to points._

_Back in the real world, Anna rolled over onto her back, letting her legs fall open bit to allow her better access without actually removing her jeans. She continued to tease and pinch her clit, the heels of her feet pressing into the floor as her hips began to jerk in uneven spasms She imagined Lee jerking her closer, one arm wrapping around her back to hold her still while the other trailed down her spine and over the curve of her hip until he could squeeze the globe of her ass in one firm hand. Those bright blue eyes held her own prisoner. He was daring her to keep silent. Daring her to surrender everything else to keep that silence..._

_The door out front opened and Derek's voice drifted to her. Anna jerked her hand out of her jeans and rolled back over onto her side, pulling her blanket up to hide the fact that she was re-buttoning her fly. Her brother came wandering back to where she was, seeking out the gear Thomas had found for him. “They sent you to bed, too, huh?”_

_She sighed. “Yeah. Apparently they missed the part where we grew up.” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice calm and steady. No way anyone would ever think she'd just been masturbating with the face of the man trying to kill them all in her head._

_Anna curled up and told herself to get some sleep. Her father was right; if she was too tired she'd make a mistake. She had no intention of dying tomorrow. She wouldn't give General Lee the satisfaction. Of course, that made no sense. There was no way he was in his heavily guarded home jerking off to thoughts of her._

_Perhaps she was just going crazy. That was probably it. She need to save up all that crazy for the coming fight. For now, she was a new soldier trying to get ready for her first real battle. The coming morning could change everything._

Bass frowned. That was the last page. How could she stop there? Right before the next big battle? Not to mention she left the main character frustrated and unfulfilled. Wasn't this supposed to be a romance story? He thought they were mostly soft core porn. This book was more like one big cock tease!

He tapped the slim volume against his knee. He wondered if Charlie really had been trying to get off thinking about him after that first meeting. He'd certainly rubbed a few off thinking of her. Sometimes in anger, imagining taking her from Miles and making sure he knew that his precious niece was warming his bed and sometimes because a large part of him wanted her fire and loyalty to family. All that spirit and strength wrapped up on a tight, sweet little package. 

How to get his hands on the next book. He'd have to be careful about it. Something told him that asking Charlie for a copy wasn't the right way to go. If she wanted people to know that she was Lorna Sterling, then Miles would know. Rachel would be lecturing her about it. Something would have been said about it. She probably felt safe in writing those books because, normally, none of them would read them and no one else would have connected the dots. 

Bass glowered at his busted leg. He'd have to either hope the book lady came back around and had the second volume or have someone get it for him. He couldn't ask Miles, not in a million years. He certainly couldn't ask any of the female Rangers. It would have to be one of the male soldiers. Someone he could trust to keep their trap shut. 

For now, however, he'd have to wait. Someone would come by to either pick up orders, drop off reports or bring him his lunch. Until then, he should probably try doing some actual work.


	3. Chapter 3

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Bass looked up from the stack of reports. A slender man in a Ranger uniform was standing just inside the tent flap. He waved him over. “Come in, Corporal.” The kid moved over and came to a stop just on the other side of the map table. “I was wondering if you could do something for me.”

“Yes, General.”

“Good. Have you heard of these books the female Rangers seem to be into? The romances?”

The kid grimaced, rolling his eyes a bit. “Yeah, I heard of them. Your girl into role play, too, Sir?” Bass arched a brow and the soldier sighed. “A lot of us have read them. Our ladies want us to be the 'General Lee' to their 'Anna'.”

If only they knew that General Lee and Anna were living in the same camp. 

“Turning into a common problem, is it?”

“Don't get me wrong, Sir. It pretty much guarantees you'll get laid, and the sex is good.” The kid thought a moment and shrugged. “And the Sterling books are more interesting than most. Whoever he is, he does a good job.”

That made Bass curious. “You think Lorna Sterling is really a guy?”

“Gotta be.”

“How so?”

He shrugged again. “This isn't the first time I've read a romance for a girl, Sir. They're usually full of sap and they dance around the genitals. The woman's got a 'flower' or 'love button' and the guy has a 'staff' or a 'rod'. Sterling keeps it real. It's a pussy or a clit and a cock. And the action scenes are believable. Well written, too. You can imagine yourself right there in the thick of it. Has to be a guy.”

 _No, just a foul mouthed little blonde who could kick your ass from one side of this camp to the other._

“I see your point. Well, I find myself needing to get a copy of the second book. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“Good. And, let's keep this quiet.” He tilted his head towards the side of the tent that was Miles. “I'd rather not have to listen to certain parties about it.”

“Understood, Sir. I'll pick up a copy when I run the post into town tomorrow.”

“Good man.” Bass handed him a few Texas coins, enough to cover the price of the book and extra for his time. “I'll see you when you get back.”

~***~

“Hey, I got your dinner. Aaaand I got some field reports.”

Bass looked up as Charlie entered the room. “Why two trays?”

She set one tray in front of him and put the other down in the chair usually reserved for Miles. “I figured you probably were getting tired of having no one to listen to but yourself.” She gave him one of those bright smiles that flashed her dimple. 

“I've had _plenty_ of people to talk to. Runners. Couriers. The medic that comes by every day to give me my meds and run me through physical therapy. I am not lacking for company.”

“Well, then. I'll just take my dinner elsewhere.” She moved to get up. Bass reached across and grabbed her tray. 

“On the other hand, you make a far more intelligent conversationalist.”

She settled back into her chair. “Better.”

“Forgive me. My lack of mobility has made me rather irritable.” He gave her a bright smile. 

She ached a brow. “So the way you usually act is all sunshine and puppies?”

“Exactly.” He poured some whiskey into two tin cups and passed one to Charlie. “I'm a sweetheart. Ask anyone.”

“We both know that's bullshit.” She took her cup and offered up the report. Her eyes fell to the book next to Bass' elbow. “What's that?”

He picked up the battered paperback. “Christine, by Stephen King. It's about a car that kills people.”

“Stephen King. Where have I heard that name before?”

“Miles is a big fan. His alias, Stu Redman, was a character from The Stand. Oddly fitting, actually. That book was about the battle between good and evil in men after most of the world died from a strain of super flu. So, he used that as his cover after the lights went out.”

“Who knew my uncle was such a nerd?”

“At everything but math.” Bass sipped at his whiskey, studying her over his cup. “It's good that people are reading for entertainment again. It'll keep the brains working. Though...I have to wonder about the subject matter.”

“How so?”

“Well, all your Ranger girl pals seem to be hooked on those Lorna Sterling books.” He watched her expression. Was that a slight hesitation in her movements? “It's turning them all into giggling teenagers. Horny, giggling teenagers.”

“So I take it you've been enjoying yourself.”

Had that little bite to her words when discussing him and other women always been there? How had he not noticed that before? “Nah. I promised Miles I'd be good. No banging the enlisted. It's hard on morale.”

“Hard on morale? I thought you were supposed to be good at the whole boy/girl thing.” She flashed him another dimple smile, this one full of teasing.

“I'm very good at the whole boy/girl thing. But if one of the girls gets promoted or gets a plum assignment, people will assume it's because I was the boy. That's not good for the whole.”

“Look at you. Being all responsible. Does it hurt?”

“Oh, hell yes!” They both laughed at that one. “But I would like to see people take more interest in history.”

“History?”

“Of course. Those who do not learn from History are doomed to repeat it.”

“Oh. And here I thought you and Foster were purposely recreating the Civil War.”

Bass grinned. “You know the Civil War?”

Charlie shrugged. She was excellent at poker, but he knew her tells. She was playing it cool, but he saw the tick on the dimple side of her cheek. “I was bored. There was a book.”

“So, what Civil War general would I be?”

“Sherman? On account of the whole trying to nuke Atlanta thing.”

“I was in a bad place.” He shrugged and refilled their cups. “Not...Stonewall Jackson or Robert E Lee?” There it was. That slight hesitation from which she recovered gracefully.

“Wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line, General.” Charlie grinned at him over a bite of buttered cornbread.

~***~

The battle on the following day did not go well. The Republic forces lost few of their men. The rebels lost a nearly half of theirs. They were forced to retreat. To scatter and make their way to a central rendezvous point where they could regroup and try to come up with a new plan.

General Jackson managed to get a small group across the border into the Southeast Republic and all the way to Atlanta where he negotiated for support from General Abner Doubleday for more men and weapons.

She had recounted the battles between his army and theirs, changing out the humvees, helicopters and drones for field artillery, Gatling guns and pedal powered submarines. He wondered when she'd had the time to do such thorough research. 

_The dust threatened to choke her as she pushed against the broken bricks and concrete. Her heart pounded, threatening to break out of her chest before she ever saw light again. She pushed harder, shoving aside shattered bricks and gravel until her hand finally broke through. Emboldened, she pushed harder, working her way up until she could taste cool, sweet air._

_Anna wriggled free of the shattered remains of the bell tower. Her ears were still ringing from the explosion that had trapped her, muffling the gunfire that was still ongoing. Blinking against the sudden glare of sunlight and grit from the explosion, she ran away from the ruble and towards where the bulk of the rebel forces were supposed to be. If she could just get behind friendly lines, get a weapon, she'd be okay._

_An NE Republic soldier all but burst from the shelter of a long barren alleyway, concealed until the last moment by smoke and ash. Anna tried to halt her forward momentum, resulting in her crashing backwards and trying to crab walk away from him. The soldier recovered more quickly and started to advance upon her._

_Her hand landed upon half of a brick which she snatched up and threw at him. He deflected it with a raise of his arm and a shout. It was just enough to give her time to roll over and get to her feet, running in the other direction. She made it a half dozen steps before two other NE soldiers came upon her. Her crossbow lost in the rubble, leaving her unarmed, and three soldiers all with swords and firearms. She had no other option than to surrender when they demanded it of her._

_She was cuffed and chained in the back of a wagon along with other rebels. Young faces she knew well and some SE soldiers she didn't know well enough. They rocked with the motion of the road, taking note of the terrain in hopes of a future escape. But when they reached the NE camp, only Anna was removed from the wagon. The rest of the captives continued on northward, heading towards one of Lee's prisons._

_”Why did you bring me here?” Anna pulled against the grip of the soldiers, even knowing she wouldn't be able to make a run for it if she did. They pulled her to a tent that proved to be empty save for a plain wooden chair and a table with blades in various sizes and what looked like items from a tool box. They fastened her to the center tent pole by cuffing her hands behind it and left her there._

_The day stretched on with nothing to see but the canvas walls of the tent and no one to speak with but herself. Anna tried to remain on her feet, determined to be defiant. Though no matter how determined she was, her feet and legs grew tired and she eventually slid down until she was seated on the floor of the tent._

_Without a lamp, she was sitting there with nothing to light the night but the camp fires in the distance when the flap opened and someone entered._

_General Robert Lee had a soldier set a lantern onto the table, dismissing him with a raised hand. He kept his eyes locked onto Anna's as he removed his kid skin gloves and dropped them onto the table as well. “I'm happy to see you well, Anna. I've been worried for you.”_

_She bit back the sarcastic retort resting on the tip of her tongue. Knowing that he couldn't manage to rise gracefully with her hands tied behind her as they were, she remained seated, lips pressed together. Lee walked around her in a slow, deliberate circle._

_”When I started receiving reports that said Thomas was letting you onto the battlefield, I couldn't believe it. I would have thought he'd cut his own throat rather than put you into harm's way like that.” Fingertips brushed across the top her of shoulder from behind. She jumped in response. “Clearly he isn't thinking straight.”_

_Anna said nothing. She fought the urge to crane her neck to try and track him. Something told her he'd like that too much._

_”Thank goodness my men found you and pulled you out of that mess. Thomas would never forgive himself if he got you killed. He'd crawl back into a bottle and not stop until he'd finally drunk himself to death this time. It would completely break what's left of his heart.”_

 

_He moved back to stand in front of her, blue eyes bright from something she couldn't quite put a name to. “You can't be comfortable down there.” He reached down, warm hands skimming around her ribs before grasping hold. She flinched as pain danced through her and he loosened his grip. “You're injured.”_

_”Yeah. Having a building come down around you can do that.” She tried to pull away, getting nowhere._

_”Be still, Anna.” Lee reached into one of the pockets of his woolen coat and retrieved a set of keys. He moved behind her and a click and a twist later her hands were free of the cuffs. She pulled her arms around front, rubbing the circulation back into them as he moved the lone chair over to her. “Here. Sit down so I can look at those ribs.”_

_She didn't trust him. He didn't give her a chance to protest. Bending down again, he was careful as he helped her onto her feet and into the chair. She was still watching him when he opened the tent flap just enough to send someone for water, towels and bandages. They waited in silence, eyes never leaving on another and saying nothing._

_Lee dismissed the soldier once he had his supplies and took off the dark coat. “Take off your jacket. And you tank. I need to be able to see the torso.”_

_She squelched the guilty thrill that shot through her at the words. “I am **not** stripping down for you.”_

_She thought he smiled a bit. “You need someone to see to those injuries, Anna.”_

_”Fine. You've got a medic or two somewhere in this camp. Send me one of them.”_

_The corner of Lee's mouth ticked up briefly. “I'm not about to let any of these men near Thomas Jackson's half dressed daughter. They're a little angry with him. They're a little angry with you. I'd rather not risk you're being...roughly handled.”_

_”Gee. Personal protection by General Lee himself. I'm flattered.”_

_”Many would be. Take them off, Anna.”_

_She glared daggers at his back while he laid out the bandages. The grit of the powdered bricks and mortar still itched against her skin. Maybe she could at least get clean. Clenching her teeth, she refused to make a sound as she took off her jacket. She couldn't hold it back when she went to take off the tank. She couldn't lift her arms enough to manage it._

_”Let me.” She hadn't heard him move, but he was right there. Large hands stretched the tank fabric while gently moving her arm close, removing the garment with as little motion was possible. She couldn't bite back a whimper. “You've got one hell of a bruise running from the back of your left shoulder to almost halfway down your ribs. Were you serious about the building?”_

_”Dead serious. Your boys have good aim.”_

_”You were in the bell tower.” His voice had dropped to something low and soft. “I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't want any harm to come to you.” Hot fingers trailed down her back, barely applying pressure, but it was enough to make her shiver._

_She felt it when he stepped back. A sudden absence of heat. He moved to the table and got one of the towels wet in the basin of water. “Let me clean up those cuts. And I'll need to make sure that you don't have any broken ribs.”_

_The water had been heated before it was brought in. He was careful as he cleaned the scrapes and cuts she'd sustained during the battle. Gentle. She wouldn't have expected that from him._

_He took up a clean towel and got it wet. Anna didn't know if the heated towel or Lee's hands were warmer as he wiped away the sweat and grime. Under those hands even the pain from her bruises felt enticing._

_”You're trembling, Anna. Am I so very scary?”_

_She swallowed and forced herself to take a breath. “Few of the stories about you are pleasant.”_

_”True. I am considered quite the monster. But what I do I do to protect my people and my lands. My methods may seem harsh, but I have to be firm.” He set aside the towel and took up the bandages and gauze. There was a tin of some sharp scented ointment that burned her nostrils a bit when he opened it. “This may sting a bit.”_

_It did, but only a bit. He applied the ointment to the scrapes and cuts before placing clean bandages to cover them. Anna closed her eyes, willing herself not to lean into his touch as he took care of her. Telling herself that this was clinical as he wrapped the gauze around her ribs to keep the dressings in place. Trying to convince herself that she wasn't giving anything away._

_”Anna. Look at me.” Gentle fingers took hold of her chin and tilted her head. She opened her eyes to find herself looking into his. **Please don't see it. Please don't see it.** Lee's mouth slowly curved up into a pleased, almost predatory smile. **Shit**_

_”So that's why you're trembling. Not as pure of thought as your father would like, are you, Anna?”_

_She swallowed and tried to scoot away, having only until her back pressed up against that of the chair to move. She watched, unable to speak, as Lee rose up onto his knees, the hand at her chin sliding back behind her neck and pulling her gently forward. His lips pressed into hers, tasting of whiskey and mint. The sharp scent of cordite still clung to his clothes, hair and skin, tantalizing for all that it was a reminder of brutality._

_Anna didn't mean to kiss him back. This man was responsible for so much pain. He'd held her mother prisoner for years. Her father was dead because his men had killed him. Now Derek and their mother were on their way to Texas, to hide behind the Rangers and live with a grandfather she wasn't even sure still lived. She should have gone with them. Should have left all of this behind like her father has asked her to do._

_She kissed him back._

_A little sound trilled at the back of her throat as he coaxed her lips apart so that he could delve in with his tongue and taste her. The hand at her neck drifted up to tangle fingers into her hair, firm but gentle. She was only vaguely aware of her body leaning towards him, trying to melt into him, but she did feel it when his other arm came around her and pulled her off the chair so that she straddled his thighs._

_Her bruises ached as he pressed her down and against the thick ridge forming within his trousers. He showed her what he wanted with slow patience until he was certain she would keep up the languid movement on her own. She moved against him, the combination of his erection and the fabric of her jeans teasing her sensitive clit as he continued to deepen the kiss. This was so much different that using her own fingers to get herself off, not having that second set of nerves to cloud the sensation. Even with clothes on, it felt more intimate than that fumbling boy back home._

_Skilled fingers unfastened the buttons of her fly. Anna jerked as battle calloused fingers slipped inside the fabric and moved with slow, deliberate intent until they found her clit and rubbed it firmly. Her hips jerked again and she broke off the kiss, head falling back out of reflex. “No...”_

_”Is that what you want, Anna?” Lee's voice was rough and dangerous in her ear as his fingers continued to work the bundle of nerves. “Do you really want me to stop?” He slid a finger into her opening. His fingers were thick and rough, and coupled with the circular motions his thumb she wasn't able to tell him to stop. Her hips bucked and circled, riding that talented hand._

_Her head remained tilted back so she could breath in cool air. She felt his lips and tongue laving the column of her throat as she moved against him. In some dim part of her mind she thought she heard herself making desperate sounds. Breathless, throaty sounds that were barely recognizable as human. He added a second finger to the first and she groaned in appreciation. As she moved against him, he crooked the digits and rubbed them against some spot inside her that broke her rhythm. Her movements became jerky and uncoordinated._

_”Let go, Anna.” His breath was hot against her skin. “Just let yourself let go. I'll catch you.”_

_Maybe she had been waiting for permission. The coil that had been growing steadily tighter inside her snapped from the pressure. She cried out in hoarse, throaty sounds as she came, shuddering against him, her spine bowed back as her hips continued to buck erratically. The blood was still pounding in her ears as her vision cleared and her thoughts crept back together and into order. What the hell had she just done?_

_Her head came back forward and her eyes met his. Lee pulled his hand from inside her jeans and licked his fingers clean of her fluids, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked...pleased._

_Her legs were weak, but he helped her back up onto the chair. She was still shaking as he buttoned her jeans back up. She watched him as he rose to his feet, her eyes drawn along with his hands to watch him readjust himself in his trousers._

_”I need to go gather a few things, Anna. Collect yourself.” He trailed the backs of his fingers over her cheek in a gentle expression. “You might want to clean up your jacket. It took a beating today.” He leaned down and pressed a final, lingering kiss against her lips, then straightened back up and left the tent._

_Anna took in deep, shuddering breaths. It was one thing to get herself off while fantasizing about the Devil. It was another thing entirely to have the Devil get you off. If nothing else, it was the most bizarre interrogation technique she'd heard of. But, then again, he hadn't asked her any questions other than about how she was feeling._

_She glanced towards the flaps. The guards were likely still out there. Guards who had, no doubt, heard her panting like a bitch in heat while grinding herself against their commanding officer's hand. There was no escape there, and no use in feeling embarrassed. Instead, she wrung out one of the towels until it was mostly just damp and pulled her jacket onto her lap. It had several new scars and nicks from the day's events and had an overall gray tinge to it. Having nothing better to do, she set to wiping it clean._

_Maybe a little more than thirty minutes later, Lee returned. He carried a pack, a crossbow with a quiver of bolts and a standard issue NE army shirt with the sleeves cut off. He set the pack and weapons down before moving towards her. “Here. Let me help you get this on.” Putting the new shirt on was about as uncomfortable as getting the old one off, but it felt good to have the clean garment against her skin._

_He waited until she got her jacket on, picked the pack and weapons back up and took her by the elbow. Leading her out of the tent, he escorted her through the camp until they reached the road. “I've put in a camp kit, a week of rations and a canteen of water.” He handed her the pack. “You've also got a hunting knife, dressing changes and more ointment.” He handed her the quiver of bolts and the crossbow. “My scouts say that your father took his men eastward, towards Webberville. If the reports I've received about you are true, it shouldn't be hard for you to track them down.” He tilted his head towards the East. “Now, get out of here before I change my mind.”_

_Was it a trick? She didn't want to trust him, but she also didn't want to lose a chance to get away. Anna made sure the pack was settled as comfortably as possible against her back and walked away from him. She made it maybe fifteen feet or so before he spoke again._

_”Anna? If you want to experience what else we can do together, just go to the nearest garrison and tell them who you are. I'll make sure my men know that you're to be brought directly to me and afforded every courtesy.”_

Bass closed the slender book and leaned back in his chair with his bottle of whiskey. “Damn, Charlie.” He took a swig and grimaced against the burn before shaking his head. “No fucking way I would have actually let you walk after that.”

The battle had clearly been the drone attack. His men had captured Nora, not Charlie, and had brought her to Philly. He'd had her tortured and interrogated. Kept in a bare, cold cell with no comforts. But what would he have done if they'd brought him Charlie instead?

Bass took another drink and studied the canvas wall of his tent. What would he have done with her? Probably would have put her in a pretty dress like he had Nora, but a pale pink to compliment her tanned skin instead of white. And no holding cell for her, not if he got so much as an inkling as to the less than proper thoughts she hid about him. No, he'd have had her taken to his suite. Tied her down to his bed and teased and tempted her until she'd begged him for release. Would have lost himself in that beautiful, toned body.

He wondered if Charlie enjoyed a little light bondage, or if she'd even tried it. He'd have to chase down the next book and see what she had imagined in it.

He flexed his leg slightly. He was progressing nicely. In another day or two he could increase his weight bearing and start moving about the camp, provided he didn't push it. 

Where did she get her research on the Civil War? Not only had she chased down Stonewall Jackson's actual given name, but she'd dug up the name of his brother Warren to use in place of Ben. A girl after his own heart.

He heard the sounds of new arrivals outside. Heard Miles' voice booming out orders. The slim book was deposited into his chair caddy and he poured two tin cups of whiskey. One for him, and one for General Jackson.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _No book excerpts in this one. Just Bass getting his game together._

“Wonderful. Just fucking fantastic. I finally get the clear to move around unassisted and they ship my ass to Austin.”

“We were all shipped to Austin, moron. It's kind of part of the 'we won' thing.” Miles smacked the back of Bass' head as he walked past him towards his office in the Capitol building. He dropped his pack onto a sofa just inside the door and moved towards the liquor cabinet. Blanchard always made sure their liquor cabinets were stocked when they came home. “Did Charlie say where she was going?”

Bass opened his own office across the way and tossed his pack down before walking into Miles' office. “Just that she had some personal business to take care of.” He accepted a glass from Miles and dropped himself into a chair in front of the oak desk. “What's she gonna do now that the war's over? She never really signed on with the Rangers.”

“She's getting a sweet payoff from Texas for services rendered. Comes with a nice little place in one of the better neighborhoods here in Austin. Three bedroom house on four acres with a garden patch already broken up. Frank says the whole place was refitted for post-Blackout.” He thought a moment and shrugged. “Maybe that's where she went. To pick up the keys or something.”

“What? We don't get a new place?”

“Charlie already knew she wanted to settle in Austin. Made it easier. And I think Texas is going to try and sweet talk us into staying on in a state position. I do know that our final pay for the war will come with full pardons.”

“Well that's something.” Bass refilled his glass and raised it in a salute. “Here's to Frank.”

Miles copies the action. “He's a dirty old man, but he's one hell of a guy.”

“Who you calling 'old'?” Frank was grinning as he walked through the door. Miles smiled back and got a third glass “Good to see you two in one piece, though I heard you had a close call, Monroe.”

“You're doctors are a bunch of mother hens. I didn't need to be on the bench that long.”

Miles sat down in his chair and propped his feet atop the desk. “I, for one, was grateful. Bass had time too do all the paperwork so I didn't have to. He was always better at that shit anyway.”

Blanchard had a chuckle at that. Bass rolled his eyes. “So Charlie's decided to stay here in Austin. I wouldn't have taken her for a city girl.”

“Well, the house we got her is far enough out not to be strictly 'city' but close enough that she'll have easy access to all the amenities. It's a pretty little place.”

“You've seen it?”

“My sister-in-law picked it out. Furnished it, too. Not completely. Just made sure she had the basics for all the rooms with plenty of room left for her to make it her own. I saw it when I took my gardener over to set hers up.”

“That's awfully nice of you, Frank.”

“Hey, I've grown fond of that little gal. She's got smarts and guts. Hard things to find in such a pretty package.” Frank held out his glass for a refill. “If I'd ever had a daughter, I'd have wanted her to be just like her. That way I wouldn't have to worry about the boys sniffing around. I have a filling Little Miss Matheson is more than capable of gelding anyone trying to show any unwanted attentions.”

Miles smirked. “That's my girl.”

Bass kicked his own feet atop the desk. “Miles, you cannot be under the impression that Charlie's still a virgin.”

“I try not to think about that at all.” Bass rolled his eyes and Miles wadded a sheet of paper into a ball and threw it at him. “Hey! I dropped the thing about the tent, didn't I?”

Blanchard's interest was piqued. “What thing about the tent?”

“Miles here wanted to put Charlie in the command tent with us so he could keep an eye on her. She put her foot down and said she didn't want to share space with the two of us. Sunshine here had a problem with that idea, but in the end he agreed she could have her own tent provided it was next to ours.”

“I still don't see why she needed her own tent.”

Blanchard snorted. “Probably didn't want to bring some buck back to yours. The girl's...what...twenty?”

“Twenty-three. Twenty-four next Tuesday.” Bass snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. We need to figure out what to do for her birthday. She probably hasn't had a real birthday since the lights went out.”

“Well, if you'll allow a 'dirty old man' to make a suggestion, you could buy her dress for the ball next Friday.”

Both generals blinked. Miles scowled. “What ball?”

“That's what I came here to talk to you about.” Frank pulled two envelopes made of heavy weight stationery and handed one to each of them. “In celebration of our victory over those Patriot dicks, the Republic of Texas is hosting a ball. Attendance from you two is mandatory. For Charlie, too. Awards and commendations are being handed out and all three of you have some coming. Formal dress. I took the liberty of including the name and address of my tailor. He's expecting you.” He fished another envelope from his jacket and handed it to Miles. “Here's Charlie's. My sister-in-law gave me the name of her seamstress for her. Good woman. Everyone wants her, but she'll make space for Charlie. That gal has become something of a hero. Real good role model for young girls.”

Frank finished off his drink and rose to his feet with a smile. Both men glowered at him as he gave a jaunty salute and headed back out.

“You should have killed him when you had the chance.”

Miles nodded in agreement. “It wasn't for lack of trying.” He scowled at the invitation. “Damn it. I hate this stuff.”

“Has Charlie ever even worn a dress before?”

“Once that I know of. It wasn't a pleasant experience.” Miles opened Charlie's invitation and took out the seamstress' information. “I have no idea how she's going to respond to this.”

~***~

“So...formal means a dress?” Charlie was studying the pretty invitation with a furrowed brow. 

“Yep. Dress for you. Monkey suits for me and Bass.”

They were all well rested. Charlie had shown up late in the afternoon and invited them to stay with her rather than the hotel they usually used when in the city. It had been dark when they'd gotten to her new home, but what they could see by lamplight was nice. Walls either painted in cream or papered with subtle, understated prints. The furniture was sturdy and unobtrusive. She'd set a fire in the cook stove before she'd gone to get them, and it was ready for action when they got back. They'd had breakfast for dinner; fried eggs, bacon, hash browns and pancakes. Not having to rush through a meal or share space with a few hundred other soldiers was a welcome treat. The guys even helped clean up afterwards.

And the beds were heavenly. There was a cistern and boiler which supplied hot water for the large, claw foot tub. Charlie had treated herself to a bath before coming back for them. Miles and Bass took turns that night.

Needless to say, they all three slept in.

Now they were standing outside the seamstress' shop. The only dress Charlie had worn since the Blackout was the barely there number Drexel had dolled her up in. That certainly wouldn't work for a formal gathering such as this. She looked at the pretty dresses with more than a little skepticism, still not going in.

Miles leaned down. “They don't bite, you know.”

“Those do not look comfortable.”

“We're not going to be comfortable. Why should you be?”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Why do I have to go to this thing, anyway?”

“You're getting an award or something.”

Bass grinned, grabbed her hand and hauled her forward. “Come on, Mini Miles. Stop stalling.” He pushed the door open, the little bell above it chiming out, and dragged her inside. 

The proprietress, Mrs. Stall, looked up from where she was kneeling at a dress dummy working on a hemline. She smiled around a mouthful of pins which she quickly took out and stuck into a pin cushion. “Miss Matheson! I am so pleased to finally meet you.” She came forward and shook Charlie's hand enthusiastically. “When Olivia told me you would be coming to see me, I could scarcely believe it.”

Bass leaned over to Miles. “Hey, look. We're hanging with a celebrity.” Charlie stomped back onto his toes. “Ouch!”

“Thank you for seeing me. I'm sorry if this is short notice.”

The lady waved off the concern. “That's hardly your fault. You had a job to do. But you're in town now and we can make sure you're ready for the big event. If you'll come this way, I need to get your measurements. Have you given any thought to what kind of gown you'd like?”

“I haven't a clue.”

“Well, we'll make something spectacular.”

Bass and Miles watched as the woman had Charlie step up onto a small platform and went out getting her measurements. “So how are you going to handle it?”

Miles frowned. “Handle what?”

“Well, Charlie in a fancy dress and a room filled with some of Texas' most eligible bachelors...I'm thinking that will be a bit interesting.”

“Shut up.” He didn't look pleased by the idea. When the ladies started talking about possible designs and cuts, he tried to suggest something modest. Bass was standing behind him and caught the dressmaker's eye, shaking his head and indicating a deeper V neck with his fingers to suggest something a little racier. Mrs. Stall sent him a conspiratorial wink. This wasn't her first over protective father figure.

That task done, Charlie grabbed them both by the arm and hauled them out to the tailors. They were, possibly, worse. Bass looked good in almost anything, so he was done fairly quickly and left Charlie to bully an increasingly surly Miles while he stepped out to hit the book store three doors down.

He used to love going to book stores before the lights went out. Book stores and libraries. The slightly sweet scent of paper and bindings had always felt comforting to him. 

Lone Star Books had rebuilt themselves well. Their shelves were kept free of dust. Their books were organized with easy-to-read signs breaking the large space up into genres and then those sections lined up by the authors' last names. There was a pump inside at a counter for customers to wash their hands before perusing the merchandise (nice touch, that), and fresh, hot chicory always fresh in the pot.

Bass washed his hands with lemon and rosemary soap, got a mug of coffee and scanned the sections. Not wanting to be too obvious, he made his way to the romance section via the sections for history, cooking and science fiction. 

Charlie...Lorna... had a good quarter of one shelf. Three different volumes with multiple copies. He was impressed. He took book three from the shelf and started making his way to the counter when he passed a table with a display of Lorna Sterling books. At least another twenty copies of each, and it looked as though some were missing because the display wasn't quite neat. 

_Nice job, Charlie._

He set his purchases down onto the counter with a smile. The weathered man manning the register shook his head. “Not my cup of tea, but that girl does bring in business. Girls come in for those and pick up a few by other writers.” He rang up the book and Bass handed him the money. “I'm hoping she puts out another book. Always see a bump in business when she does.”

“Looks like you still hope to sell a few copies of what you've got.”

“We'll sell all we got and get more. Good thing the publisher is here in Austin.” 

“That is fortunate.” Bass picked up his book and opened the cover to see who the publisher was. He almost choked on air. 

_Tamsin-Blanchard Publishing_

“Blanchard, as in Frank Blanchard?”

“His sister-in-law, I think. She was a Tamsin by birth and married into the Blanchard clan. She runs the place with her father, though old man Tamsin doesn't do much anymore. He's on his downward slide, poor man.”

Did Frank know about Charlie? Nah. Not possible. He wouldn't be able to keep from teasing her about it. Or teasing him about it.

Both books went into a bag that already contained his shoes and tie for the event. Bass thanked the proprietor and headed back to the tailor to save the man from Miles' wrath.

~***~

“You thinking about going back to Willoughby?” Bass offered Miles a glass of fine quality scotch. Blanchard had spared no expense for this shindig.

Miles grimaced and gave a shrug. “I don't think so. Might stay here in Austin.”

That surprised him. “I figured you'd be in a hurry to get back to Rachel.”

“I don't think it's going to work out. Me and Rachel.”

Bass kept his relief at that assessment off of his face. “Sorry to hear that. I know you've been carrying a torch for her since...forever.”

“You hate Rachel.”

“We hate each other, but that doesn't mean I want you to suffer.” He polished off his scotch. “I just...I never got the whole you and Rachel thing.” 

“Why not?”

“Come on, Miles. Nothing you ever do is good enough for her. She always finds a reason to criticize you. What guy wants to put up with that?”

Miles didn't respond. Likely because Bass had a good point. Instead, he looked around the crowd. “When did Charlie say she'd be here?” They had gotten dressed at the office, but Charlie was catching a ride from her place by hired coach. 

“Before the presentations.” She had gotten her gown for the evening into her room, and thus off limits, before either of them could see it. He had no idea what she and the dressmaker had come up with and the curiosity was eating him alive inside.

They'd had a couple more drinks. Had pressed the flesh with a few other high ranking soldiers. They had fielded subtle and not-so-subtle flirtations from multiple women. Fortunately no one tried to get Miles out onto the dance floor (he hated dancing) but that meant Bass couldn't either. He enjoyed dancing. Rather, he enjoyed the flirtation that came with dancing. In his wild and misspent youth he'd tweaked the noses of various tools by taking their girls out for a spin on the floor. Sometimes it paid off in taking said girl back home. Other times it paid off in a rousing fight where he could teach the ass hat some manners.

A h for the days when he was young and immortal.

He heard Miles choke on his whiskey and glanced over to see his brother gaping in the direction of the doorway. If he'd been mid-sip at the time, he would have choked, too.

Charlotte was wearing blue. With silks and satins being difficult to come by on the North American continent these days, and linen being hideously pricey to produce, people had gone back to sateens made from cotton instead of rayon and, from the look of Charlie's gown, dimity. The core over her lush figure was covered by a sateen garment of royal blue that fell to only a couple inches above her knees and plunged dangerously low in the front. As she turned to give her cape to the coat check girl Bass bit back a groan before Miles could hear it. The back of the under shift was cut low as well. Over that was the sheer dimity in a paler, robin's egg blue. It draped lazily down over the v-cuts but cascaded down over her hips and came to end at her ankles, the skirt designed to sway and flutter with her movements. A floaty, cape-style ruffle graced her shoulders like a butterfly kiss. 

She looked like an angel. 

Or a siren.

She was both his greatest dream and, he was sure, his doom.

Miles was taking note of anyone he thought might be paying too much attention to his niece as she walked over to join them. “Sorry I'm late.” She stood on tiptoe to buss Miles' cheek before turning her smile to Bass. “You keeping General Grumpy out of trouble?”

“I was. Then you showed up. I think he's considering resurrecting his old self for some wholesale slaughter.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Bass arched a brow at her, then pointed behind her. Charlie looked over her shoulder, took a double take, then turned back around. Her cheeks flushed a pleased pink as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I rest my case.”

“You look good, Kid.” Miles may have put a bit too much emphasis on 'kid'. “Sure you won't get cold?”

Charlie arched a brow at her uncle. “Do we need to have 'the talk' again?” Bass hid his grin behind his whiskey. He remembered 'the talk'. It had been more like an over-the-top screaming match that had broken out about her accommodations in camp. 

Miles glowered and looked away. “No. I'll behave.”

“I'll believe that when I see it.” Charlie stole Bass' glass and took a drink from it. He didn't mind.

Instead, as the small orchestra hired for the evening started up with a new tune, he gave a near-courtly nod of his head to her. “Miss Matheson, would you be so kind as to honor me with a dance?”

She blinked. He saw the surprise there clearly on her features, but when Miles gave a disbelieving snort he saw that surprise morph into irritation at being dismissed as nothing more than a bravo. “I would be delighted, General.” She handed the glass off to Miles and placed a long fingered hand into his, allowing him to escort her to the polished wood dance floor.

Turning her in his arms, Bass placed a hand at the small of her waist and smiled. “Want me to take it easy?”

“No need. I know my way around a waltz.” 

That was a pleasant surprise and he started off. She followed him gracefully in spite of the heels he was certain she had little to no practice with. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember a time he'd seen her in a dress. “Where did you learn?”

“Wisconsin. There was this couple that owned a dance studio before the Blackout. They thought teaching us kids how to dance during the winter months would keep us out of trouble.” She gave a single shoulder shrug. “And it made them happy. You?”

He grinned. “A class offered on base. All the cute female Marines were attending.”

She bit off a bark of laughter. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I am something of a Renaissance gentleman.” He maneuvered them so that they were on the outer edge of the dancers. 

“A gentleman?”

“Hey, I kept my pants on when you were drugged unconscious, didn't I?”

“How would I know? I was unconscious.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth and her smile flashed that adorable dimple. Bass smiled back, his fingers drifting along her back until their tips kissed the warm, smooth skin bared by her dress. 

He noted the shift in her features immediately. A sharp, short intake of air. A slight widening of her eyes. The pupils growing just a bit larger. The full, lush mouth parting slightly.

He had made sure they were facing away from Miles when he moved. Now he moved his hand in a light caress over her bare back, just enough that there would be no mistaking it as unintentional. Her eyes remained locked with his but he could see the slow, measured rise and fall of her breasts. “You look beautiful, Charlotte. Being near you makes being gentlemanly extremely difficult.”

Her tongue darted out quickly to moisten dry lips. His eyes dipped down to watch, but he refrained from kissing her. Not here. Not now. He knew Miles would be keeping an eye out for any untoward affections from her admirers, and having his brother try to kill him in the middle of a political gathering such as this wouldn't be good for any of them. 

The orchestra finished the last measure of the waltz and the dancers broke apart to applaud. Bass and Charlie hesitated a bit longer than the others, but no so long as to invite rumors and speculations. Their eyes remained on one another for a moment longer after they had joined in the applause, looking away from each other only when Blanchard took the stage to give the first of the speeches.

Bass only half listened to Frank. His thoughts were elsewhere. He'd made his first move, letting her know that the interest was there. Now he just needed to start building on it.


	5. Chapter 5

Bass was whistling as he made his way up the steps of the capitol building. That turned more than a few heads. He'd been a known asshole on the battlefield. He was, at times, short tempered and lacking patience with politicians, giving rise to questions on how he'd managed to hold the Republic as long as he did. He was seldom, however, so obviously happy.

He'd been tied up with the Rangers, going over plans for their proposal for turning the three top Ranger units into the basis for a Texas Special Forces. Blanchard was optimistic about their chances on the grounds that Texas and the Senate were all still high off their victory over the Patriots and would be a little more slack with the purse strings. He'd gotten up early to have breakfast with the men, then stayed around to talk with the officers through the morning and lunch. Now it was almost four and he had just enough time to see if he had any messages that needed immediate response before heading home.

He opened the door to his office to find Miles seated at his desk, his feet propped up on the polished wood and a slim book in his hands. His friend's brow was furrowed. “What's up?”

Miles looked up at him, a disconcerting glare in his eyes. He held up the book. “Did this really fucking happen?”

He was holding A General Temptation.

Shit.

“No. Well, the throw down with Sarah/Rachel/whomever is almost exact, but the part of me coming on to her is all fiction.”

Miles' glare darkened. 

“It's _fiction_. I swear!”

“How long have you known about this?”

Bass closed the door to his office as he shrugged. “Since I was laid up with that injury. I got some books to keep me from going stir crazy.”

His brother rubbed his eyes. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

“It's artistic license. Don't make such a big deal out of it.”

“I don't particularly care for the idea that you've been jerking off to my niece's adolescent fantasies about you.”

“She was at least twenty-two when she started writing those. Hardly an adolescent.” It would be some time before he realized he failed to deny the 'jerking off' part.

“Does she know you know?”

“Nah. I figured if she wanted us to know about it, she'd have said something.”

“Right.” Miles pulled his side drawer back open and took out the other two books.

“Hey! Not the third one! I haven't had a chance to read that one yet!”

“You're not reading any more of them. Your ego is big enough as it is. I'm not letting you fuel it with Charlie's wet dreams. I don't even want you to know she has wet dreams. I don't want you thinking of her in a sexual manner at all.” He got up from Bass' chair and started walking to the door.

“You're blowing this out of proportion.”

“I don't think so.” Miles walked out and went across the hall to his office. He grabbed his jacket and his flask. “I'm calling it a day. Charlie promised fried chicken tonight.”

She made the best fried chicken. Somewhere someone taught her to put a bit of cayenne pepper in the breading. Not a lot, just enough to give it a bit of heat. And the summer squash and tomatoes in her garden were ripe. 

Bass locked up his office and followed.

Miles didn't speak to him during the ride to Charlie's. He just slouched in his saddle and occasionally took a pull from his flask. Bass' well developed instincts told him that his friend might be unhappy with learning that his niece may harbor sexual fantasies about him. He'd just have to give the man time to roll it around in his thoughts until he was ready to address it.

They put the horses up, brushing them down and making sure they had fresh oats and water before going into the house. The aroma of fried chicken and fresh bread assaulted them as they walked in, to which Bass smiled. He was pulling off his dusty boots to set by the door as Miles stomped towards the kitchen. “Charlie!” 

Crap.

“You're just in time.”

Bass hurried after Miles as the taller man stormed up to Charlie, pulling the books from his jacket as he did so. “What the fuck is this?”

Charlie's mouth dropped open for a second. She recovered quickly. A little practice and she'd be one hell of a poker player. “It's those books the girls like so much. Didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Miles.” She pushed him gently to get him to move so she could put the plate of chicken down onto the table. 

“Don't play dumb with me, Charlie. You wrote these.”

“What? No!”

“Don't try to sell me on that. There are entire conversations you and I had in here. Verbatim.” He shrugged his shoulders, hands going up in the air. “You're writing smut books? How the fuck did that happen?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “And why the fuck is this moron the leading man?”

Her jaw dropped open, her skin flushing an interesting shade of red. Bass made a valiant effort not to crack up laughing.

“I mean, it couldn't be Jason or Connor? At least someone your own age? You gotta pick this guy?”

“Oh, God.” She covered her face with her hands briefly before shaking her head. “Can we just...sit down to dinner and not talk about this? It's not like I expected you to find out. That's why I use the pen name.” She tried to urge Miles to sit down at the table.

“This is got to stop. Do you know what this could do if it got out? Fuck, what if Frank found out? There's no telling what that old pervert would try if he caught wind of this.” Miles noted the slightly uncomfortable pitch to her expression. “What?”

Bass coughed. “I think Frank already knows.” When Miles glared at him in question he nodded his chin at the books still in his hand. “Check out the publisher.”

Miles opened the front cover. “Tamsin-Blanchard Publishing?”

Charlie shrugged. “Carolyn is his sister-in-law.”

“The sister-in-law who helped find this house?”

“Yeah. The money from Texas only covered half of it. The rest of it came from my royalty earnings.”

That pulled him up short. “They sell that well?”

“According to the guy at the book store, she brings him in all kinds of new business.”

“I didn't ask you, you dick.” He sighed. “Charlie, please stop.”

Now she was getting angry. “No! You can't tell me what to do, Miles. Besides, I'm under contract for another four books. My readers want to know what happens to General Lee and Anna now that they're fighting the Regulars.”

Bass perked up. “Is that what you're calling the Patriots?”

“Yeah. It was that or Minute Me...” Her eyes grew round. “You _read_ them?”

He grinned. “Just the first two. He took them away from me before I could read the third.”

Charlie groaned and turned away from them, muttering something about hiding bodies. Bass wasn't sure whose bodies she was talking about, but he figured he and Miles might want to sleep with one eye open. At least for tonight.

He would have preferred to string things along for a little bit more. Miles was really fucking up his time line. The jerk.

Deciding that someone had to break the tension, he dropped himself into one of the chairs at the table and started filling his plate. She'd fried the summer squash as well as the chicken and had peeled and sliced the tomatoes. This was probably his favorite time of the year, as far as fresh produce went. There was even gravy for the mashed potatoes. “This looks amazing, Charlie. Thank God you took after Ben in the cooking department.”

She accepted the out gratefully. “Yeah...for a woman who can cook up deadly gas from basic chemicals I never understood how my mom can burn water.” She sat down across from him.

“Oh, don't think you're gonna...”

“Miles, book discussion is over. Eating now.” She pointed to the other chair. After a second, Miles scowled, stalked over to the cabinets to claim a bottle of whiskey and sat down to join them.

Charlie made inquiries about the progress in winding the Rangers down from war time and the work in creating a special forces branch. Bass answered most of the questions with an occasional grunt or addition from Miles. He was still stewing over finding out that his niece had been feeding the fantasies of most of the woman in Texas with steamy tales based on his best friend when Bass volunteered them both for kitchen duty in exchange for the meal.

“Don't get any ideas,” he growled after Charlie had left the kitchen. “Just because she writes about you without your clothes doesn't give you leave to try and get out of your clothes.”

“Kind of hard to take a bath with them on, Miles.”

“You know what I mean!”

He grinned. “What if Charlie shows up in my room without her clothes?”

“Bass!”

He grinned wider and was about to needle Miles some more when there was an insistent pounding on the front door. Charlie called out she would get it and a bit later they heard the unmistakable sound of Rachel's voice.

“Uhm...did you make your mind about her, yet?”

“Don't start.” Miles didn't look happy about his maybe-girlfriend being here. He wiped his hands dry on a towel and tossed it to Bass before heading towards the living room. Bass followed.

“I didn't know you were coming to town.”

“I got your letter saying you weren't coming back to Willoughby. I was concerned.”

“What's there to be concerned about? I was offered a residence here in Austin and there are more opportunities here.”

Rachel's brow furrowed slightly, her mouth turning downwards with disapproval. “I thought you'd come back home once the war was over.”

“And do what, Mom?”

“Find someone to settle down with. Make a life for yourself.”

Bass refrained from rolling his eyes. Miles saw the problem right away. “Settle down with who, Rachel? Thanks to the Patriots, everyone in Willoughby her age is dead, now. She could wait another eight to ten years for some of the boys to grow up or settle for a widower looking for someone too help raise the kids he already has as well as give him more. Is that all you think she's good for? Not to mention she could kill any of the men in that town in her sleep.” He gave a shrug, one hand gesturing through the wall of the house towards where the city lay. “Austin has more to offer her. Not to mention she is respected and admired here. Hell, they just gave her three different awards and two commendations the other night. You should see all the requests that come in to my office for her to speak at one event or another. She could write her own check just about anywhere.”

Apparently the idea that Charlie might be able to stand on her own without her hadn't occurred to Rachel. Bass managed not to burst out laughing at the expression on the woman's face. Did she miss the part where her daughter had picked up, pulled Miles out of whatever hole he'd crawled into and walked over one thousand miles to get her brother back? Did she think Charlie had spent the last year acting as Miles and his secretary? 

The extent to which Rachel undervalued her daughter's contributions was mindboggling.

About that time Rachel's eyes landed on him. “What is he doing here?”

“I invited him to stay, Mom. There's no need for Miles and Bass to pay for a hotel room when I have space here. Besides, it's easier to cook for three than it is for one.”

Miles shrugged again. “It's just temporary, until we decide where we want to live.” He glanced over his shoulder at Bass. “By the way, Frank says he thinks he can get us the place next door.”

That was good news. The property lined up perfectly with Charlie's. They could extend the garden onto the second property and maybe even get a milk cow to share. Perhaps raise a few pigs each year for ham and bacon. 

“I don't like him being here, Charlie.” Oh, right. Rachel was here.

“It's not up to you, Mom. This is my house. He was invited.” Charlie enunciated the words carefully.

“Charlie, you can't trust this man.”

“I've trusted him for almost two years now. Trusted him at my back to keep me alive, and he's come through every time.”

Bass wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words. Charlie was standing up for him. She'd done it before, in a way, but this was clear defiance. He wished he had a pre-Blackout camera, because the look on Rach's face was beautiful.

“Charlie, Monroe is a monster! He killed Ben. He killed Danny. He built a government that enslaved and tortured...”

Miles grimaced. “Rachel, let's not go over this aga...”

**”Shut up!”**

Everyone fell silent, looking at Charlie. She was pressing her fingertips to her temples as though trying to stave off a headache. 

“You know, I'm getting really sick and tired of this.”

Rachel took a step towards her. “Charlie...”

She stepped back, her hands going out to block her mother. “No, Mom. I'm stick of you and your holier-than-thou manner. I'm fed up with how you talk down to me and to Miles like we're dumber than inbred dogs. And I am _way_ past fed up with your selective amnesia!”

Charlie walked a few steps away, her hands making fists in repetition as she looked for the words to express herself. “You know, you go on and on about Bass and the Monroe Republic, but you seem to be willing to forgive Miles for all the same shit. They built it together, in case you forgot. Miles told me about a lot of the things he did. The conscription boats. Helping wipe out his pet drug lord's competition. He _built_ the fucking Militia, Mom. I doubt they called him the Butcher of Baltimore because he could whip out some killer pork chops. And yet you seem ready to forget all of that.”

Rachel's chin lifted slightly in defiance. “Miles is remorse....”

 _”I'm not done!”_ Charlie took a deep, shaky breath. Miles and Bass watched. It was like a train wreck. They couldn't look away.

“Now, I'm all too aware that history shows scientists make things and the wrong people abuse them. I know that it may have been your nanotech, but the wrong people misused it and made the Blackout. I get that. But you and Dad? You knew what really happened. You knew where the Tower was. You knew what could reverse it. But what did you after the lights went out? You packed up me and Danny and you went into hiding. There were over seven _billion_ people in this world, Mom. _Billion_. The estimates on how many died because of the Blackout in one way or another ranges from seventy to eighty-five percent, world wide. How many of them would have survived if on the day after the lights went out, you and Dad had started us out walking to the Tower to turn the lights back on?”

Charlie took a slow step towards her mother, who was now rooted in place. “Billions dead, Mother. They died from starvation. They died from unsafe water. They died because they could no longer get life saving medications and because the stronger, more violent people turned on and preyed on the weak. Everything fell into chaos and the militias were formed, warlords and their clans rose up and people started doing horrible, terrible things to one another just to survive. The United States fell apart and is now in various different Republics. Turning the power off didn't do that. _Keeping_ the power off did that. And you and Dad were the ones who made the conscious decision not to turn the lights back on.”

Rachel swallowed. “Danny was sick. He needed....”

 _”Don't talk to me about Danny!_ Don't you _dare_ talk to _me_ about Danny!” Charlie's voice was shaking. Bass could hear the tears in her words. Her entire body was trembling. “You walked away from us. Left me calling for you on the side of the road so you could go play house with your husband's brother.”

Ouch. That had to smart. Bass studiously did not look at Miles.

“I took care of Danny. I know him far better than you ever could, and let me tell you about my brother.” Charlie got right into Rachel's face. Her voice was a cold, harsh sound now. “If he had known that all those billions died because the power was kept off for him, he would been horrified. He would have been sickened by that knowledge. And he would have been ashamed that you were our parents. Unlike you and Dad, my brother was a good, honorable and decent person. There is a monster in this house right now, Mom, and I'm looking. Right. At her.”

Rachel flinched back as though struck. Miles jerked and took a step forward. “Charlie..”

She ignored him and pointed past her mother to the door. “Get out of my house. Get out, and don't come back until you are finally able to own up to your own actions. Let me know when you're finally willing to admit you're not the perfect little flower that you seem to think you are.”

Rachel took a step back, then another. Her face had gone bone white and bloodless. Her hand fumbled behind her until she found the doorknob and she turned it, jerking the door open before turning and fleeing. 

Miles sighed and headed after her. “I'm gonna make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Don't wait up.” He shut the door behind him.

Charlie took a breath and sat down in a nearby chair. She was still shaking, her face wet with tears. She buried her head into her hands and started to sob.

Bass moved over and knelt down in front her. He reached out with one hand to rub from her shoulder to her elbow gently. “Charlie, it's all right. You're gonna be fine.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see all that. I just...I just get so tired of her shit.”

“Hey, preaching to the choir here.” He brushed her hair from her face, smoothing it over her back. “It was a long time coming, and you're probably the only person who could have said it and she would listen to. You got nothing to be ashamed of.”

She sniffed a few times, her face going blotchy and eyes red rimmed. At that moment she was probably the most beautiful woman Bass had ever seen. “They made you, you know. You and Miles both. If they'd just done the right thing and turned the power back on as soon as possible, things wouldn't be so fucked up now. The government could have righted itself before it completely fell. You and Miles wouldn't have felt the need to build a militia and the Republic. The Patriots wouldn't' have had enough time to get their shit together for an attempted conquest. May have even avoided making the nano sentient.”

Bass nodded, still offering support. “All valid points, but they didn't turn the power back on. Now we have the world we got, and we'll have to make the best of it.” He offered her a slight smile. “You look like you could use a stiff drink. Come on. Let's polish off the rest of Miles' whiskey and see if we can't wake up with killer hangovers.” She gave a weak laugh in response. “If nothing else, it'll help you sleep tonight.”

“You think Miles is gonna leave with her?”

Bass shook his head. “Nah. He's pretty much figured out they're not gonna work. He's just making sure he's there if she decides to do one of her dramatic suicide gestures again.”

Charlie groaned. “I didn't even think of that.”

“Don't let it worry you, Charlie. He'll take care of her. Keep her alive until she comes to term with all you gave her to think about. You may have done us all a lot of good tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Comments are my drug of choice._


End file.
